Appendectomy
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: Ivan is in the hospital, and Alfred gets very worried. More worried than he really should be. But after what he's seen, he has right to. Oneshot AU, Russia/America.


**A ****oneshot between Russia**** and America, very small bits of fluff. **

**Summary: Ivan is in the hospital, and Alfred gets very worried. More worried than he really should be.**

**Human names are used, AU.**

**Pairings: Russia/America**

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><p>He didn't exactly remember what time it was when he had finally gotten a chance to think something coherently. Maybe about three or three thirty AM. That was Alfred's guess, since the only thing he had realized was that he was tired, and hadn't been asleep for hours.<p>

He was sitting in the blanched white room, which was small, and had many chairs squaring around the walls, minus a table where old "Sports Illustrated" magazines and "Christian Parenting" guides were stacked. One 'TIME' magazine lay on the floor, issued in February 2006, but no newer issues in sight. The chairs were metal rimmed, with bright red faux leather cushion. Alfred's nose had initially crinkled at the sterilized smell of the room.

Alfred wasn't the only person in the room, as there was another party sitting across from him, a young woman and a girl no older than six. The girl was asleep on the woman's lap. The woman appeared both tired and worried, as if some life changing news were pending to be told. Alfred knew how she felt, both exhausted and worried beyond all reason. The poor lady was almost shaking, and her eyes were unfocused. Alfred could only imagine why she was here. Maybe somebody she knew was dying or in a life changing surgery. Or maybe they were both here for the same reason.

If the other woman was taking a look at Alfred, she wouldn't have noted any worry in his face, just exhaustion. But in truth, Alfred was worried, very worried. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he couldn't predict a single thing that was to happen. His stomach felt chilled and tightened with anticipation, and he could feel the warmth in his cheeks as his heart beat almost audibly and out of whack.

He had initially tried to read a magazine, to calm down, but he couldn't really focus, since the magazine was so boring and old, and he couldn't take his mind off what had just happened a little over eight hours ago. That was when Ivan had first called him.

_EIGHT HOURS AGO_

_The smell and sound of mushrooms sizzling in a pan spread through the kitchen as Alfred prepared his dinner. He had arrived home from his job earlier today, since it was the day before his three day weekend. Meaning he had time to cook a more elaborate meal for himself. He'd have to thank Francis later for those cooking lessons he gave him in college._

_As Alfred turned the burner onto the higher degree, he reached into his cupboard to grab the olive oil, when his cellphone started blaring the guitar solo from 'Dani California', signaling he had recieved a text. He grabbed the olive oil bottle, and put it on the counter. He pulled out the phone, checking to see who it was. The screen flashed, "Recieving Text From Ivan", and when the sandy haired man pressed the screen, the message flashed:_

_'please come over quickly'_

_Alfred smirked, knowing it was like Ivan to tell him to come over for some weird reasons. Wether it was for some new sunflower he had planted, or some odd, random reason, the man always told him to come over. That was just Ivan being Ivan._

_Alfred quickly punched in, 'sure, but not for about an hour i'm gonna eat dinner' and as soon as the message sent, he went back to his work over the stove, popping the cap off the oil to drizzle it on the mushrooms, and began to stir the contents in the pan. He smiled to himself once again, at Ivan's childish excitement when he was happy or had exciting news(for him at least). Ivan had always been this way, from the day he moved from America to Russia, he was kind of an oddball._

_He had been the transfer student during the middle of third grade in Alfred's class. At first, he and Alfred got off on the wrong foot, especially since the American had made the mistake of calling Ivan 'tubby'. Also, Alfred, after a week of observing Ivan had noticed that the kid never took off his scarf. EVER. Not even in gym. Which made it all the more easier for Alfred to trip him during a game of capture the flag. Ivan was about to run for the flag, when Alfred had grabbed an end of his scarf, making the boy jerk back, and fall on his face. Alfred giggled and called him the name mentioned earlier, causing the Russian boy to cry, and try and punch the other. Thus a fight broke out, and both were sent to the principal. Alfred was forced to apologize to Ivan, and vice versa. Both were sentenced to clean the blackboards after school, and during that time found a mutual interest in space, and eventually many other things. By the end of third grade, the two were inseperable friends._

_Alfred's phone slammed the guitar solo once again, and Alfred checked the phone again with a sigh,_

_'come over immediately. please.'_

_Alfred rolled his eyes, and gave a half hearted sigh of defeat. He turned the burner off, knowing that he could get back to his food later. Ivan's house wasn't even that far, so it wouldn't be that bad to let it wait. It sure beat Ivan messaging him all night, bugging him to come over._

_He put on his bomber jacket, and walked out of the house, down three blocks to Ivan's. The sun was starting to dim down, and the air was cold with autumn chill. Alfred was left wondering what antics Ivan was going to inform him about this time._

_When he reached the Russian's flat, he knocked on the door, but no answer. Alfred wasn't too worried though, since it was expected of the Russian sometimes that he wouldn't answer the door. He sighed, and checked the door, and finding it to be unlocked, opened it with a, "Yo Ivan, I'm here!"_

_He then laughed as he spoke out, "You let my food get cold, so what's up?"_

_There was no answer, which caused Alfred to call out, "Yo, Ivan, I'm here...hello?"_

_Once again, the man was met with silence, which caused him to worry a little. Was something wrong, or was Ivan trying to scare him?_

_"Haha, Ivan, if you're trying to scare me, it isn't working. Come on out!"_

_Finally, Alfred was met with an answer, but it came out as a pained groan from the living room._

_'F-Fredka...'_

_"Ivan?" called out Alfred, who turned the corner, and to his surprise and confusion, found Ivan laying on the floor, beside the couch, knees curled up to chest, face scrunched in pain. His arms were clenched around his stomach, and his phone lay a few inches away on the floor._

_"Ivan? OhmyGod Ivan, are you alright?" asked Alfred worriedly, as he ran over, and knelt by his friend. Ivan was shivering a little, and his lips were quivering, trying to speak, but it looked like it hurt to._

_"Ivan, what's wrong?"_

_"M-my stomach hurts...really badly..."_

_"Can you move?"_

_"No...it hurts to..."_

_"Ohgod...ohgod...ohgodohgod...uh, um...what do I do...call a doctor?"_

_"I don't know...j-just do something..." whimpered the Russian, who curled up even tighter, about to cry from the horrific pain in his stomach. Alfred, worried even more, jumped to his friend's aid, and tried to comfort him by gently rubbing his back. As he did so, he tried to piece together coherent thoughts and ideas, and finally agreed to the idea of calling the hospital._

_"Emergency services?" answered a pleasant female voice._

_"Yeah, I'm calling from my friend's house, he's on the floor with really bad stomach pain, and he can't move."_

_"Ask him if he feels nauseous."_

_"Ivan, do you feel nauseous, like you're gonna puke or something?" asked Alfred, holding the phone down a minute._

_"N-not nauseous...but I feel...I feel like I'm going to throw up out of pain or something..." whined the violet eyed man._

_"He doesn't feel nauseous, but he does think he's gonna throw up out of pain soon..." repeated the American into the phone, rubbing poor Ivan's back in comforting circles._

_"Alright, well I can't quite determine what is wrong with him, appendicitis maybe...I'm sending an ambulance over, we've got his house located on here from where you're calling, so sit tight."_

_"Alright, thanks ma'am, we'll wait." thanked Alfred as he hung up. He paid attention back to Ivan, who groaned in agony, and began to retch over, spilling whatever contents were in his stomach out onto the floor (it wasn't much, just water and what looked like a few grapes or small fruits that were half digested). He shivered violently, trying to shut out the pain to no avail. Tears were starting to come out of his eyes, and he murmured, much like a child to Alfred, "Fredka, make it stop..."_

_Alfred sighed, and taking off his bomber jacket, put it on Ivan to keep him warm. His blue eyes relflected the obvious worry. If someone as durable as Ivan was throwing up out of pain, then it was not a good sign._

_As he rubbed the ailing man's back, trying to soothe him in whatever way possible, Alfred had thoughts racing through his head as to what to do now. He knew appendicitis was unpleasant, but he never knew that it would be to this degree. What else could he do for Ivan while they waited for the ambulance to come?_

_Alfred remembered when he was sick, he would be thirsty, so he innocently asked, "Are you thirsty Ivan? Should I get you some water?"_

_Ivan shook his head violently, as if water would be awful for him. He simply curled up into a tighter ball under the coat, trying to avoid the horrible smell of his stomach's upturned contents, which were on the floor. He then tried to rest his head on Alfred's crisscrossed leg, like a pillow. Alfred was about to protest, but seeing the pain in his friend's face, didn't oppose, and let the Russian man rest his head._

_Alfred stared at the clock, and nervously realized that not even ten minutes had passed since he had arrived, and the hospital was twenty minutes away. And he couldn't count on an ambulance getting there speedy quick. He feared that Ivan wouldn't last. He stroked his friend's silvery hair comfortingly, and hoped that help would arrive soon._

_"Yo, it's gonna be alright Ivan. The ambulance will be coming any time now, and you'll get help, okay? Can you hang on a little?"_

_"M-mhm...I-I'll be alright, I'm not dying or anything...yet..."_

_The American quietly chuckled as he pet Ivan's head, glad to know Ivan still had a sense of humor (or what he thought was)._

_"Geez...if you were feeling this crappy, why didn't you tell me earlier?"_

_"I-I didn't want to bother you...also, I couldn't know it'd be this bad, d-da?" he whispered, trying to smile, even though the pain was too distracting. He sniffed, as tears were making his eyes wet, but not falling._

_"Well, next time, before you decide to double over, do it when I'm not making dinner okay?" joked Alfred, trying to distract himself from his worries._

_"..mm...can't make any promises..." muttered Ivan, as he shuddered in pain._

_It was simply quiet for a while, as Ivan shivered or fidgeted intensely uncomfortable, as Alfred stroked his hair gently. He was hoping that at some point, Ivan would feel better, or get a little rest from his suffering, but nothing happened. Soon enough the sound of a siren was heard, and a rapid knock on the door. Alfred shouted, "It's unlocked!"_

_Within ten seconds three paramedics ran in, with a stretcher and first aid kit. They checked Ivan, finding his pulse and breathing normal, but his stomach pain was getting worse. They were gentle in moving him onto the stretcher, even though he groaned in absolute agony._

_"Mind if I come with? Just so he doesn't get lonely or something." asked Alfred, who knew that Ivan NEEDED him there with him. The Russian was one who was often scared to be alone, and seemed to break down when he had nobody to turn to. With Alfred, he felt safe. He WAS safe._

_So for the ride there, Ivan simply said nothing, trying to calm down, and distract himself from the intimidating surroundings. The shaky motions of the ambulance were not a comfort to him, neither was the beeping of the machine next to him, the murmurings of the paramedic in the back, or the wailing siren. It was his American friend that helped him pull it together. Alfred smiled reassuringly, trying to mask his growing worry._

_"What do you MEAN I can't be in there?"_

_"It's hopsital protocol. We can't allow you to be in the emergency room."_

_"But he'll freak in there without me! He NEEDS me!" cried Alfred to the female nurse, slamming his hands on the reception counter. The lady wasn't allowing him to go into the emergency room with Ivan._

_"Mr. Jones, your friend Mr. Braginski is being examined right now, and in his condition, emergency procedures may have to be taken, which is by the decision of the medical staff."_

_"But he gets really scared when he's alone like this! I can't let that happen to him!"_

_"I assure you, our medical staff will take good care of him, and give him sedatives if needed. If you stay in the waiting room, we'll send someone to give you progress updates."_

_Alfred bit his lip, realizing his arguing wouldn't help the situation, and that there was nothing else he could do. Cheeks stained an angry blush, he sighed, "Fine."_

_"Please do try to relax, Mr. Jones. Chances are, Mr. Braginsky has a common ailment."_

_''Common ailment' my ass', thought Alfred. Ivan didn't wind up in hospitals by common ailments. It took much worse than that to even PAIN the big guy. At least Alfred thought so._

_As he walked to the waiting room, he swore he could hear Ivan calling his name._

The door leading to the hallway opened, revealing a doctor in a white coat. He was carrying a clipboard, and he spoke to those in the room, "Is anyone here for a Mr. Andrew Glass?"

The woman across from Alfred shook a little, as she raised her hand feebly, murmuring, "I'm his wife...". The child in her lap continued to snooze. The doctor flipped through a couple pages on the clipboard and went over to her.

Alfred heard the doctor tell the woman, "Well, it looks like he's going to be alright m'am. A broken collarbone seems to be the worst of it. He was lucky to be where he was when the crash occured. Had he been positioned otherwise, he'd probably not have made it."

As the woman gave a look of overwhelming relief, Alfred almost felt a little less nervous. The woman's worried looks had been kind of making him tenser than needed. The doctor was leading her and the sleeping kid off into the hallway, closing the door, leaving Alfred all alone in the room.

Alfred remained in a mental suspension for the next hour it seemed. He had been waiting in the room for over seven hours. And this whole time, they hadn't told him anything. For all he knew, Ivan could be dead, or dying, and they wouldn't say anything. He had tried to ask a nurse walking through if she had known anything, but she simply stared at him like he had been a gibberish spouting hobo.

As his worry took over, Alfred began to remember that this wasn't the first time he and Ivan inhabited the hospital together. Memories of fourth grade began to sink in.

_The little blonde boy sat up in his hospital bed, eyes weary, but energy still sparking through him, restless from laying in bed all day. His throat hurt a little still, but not as much as it did before. At least he got to have Seven-Up and cold stuff that made him feel better._

_He was disappointed when his mother said no ice cream though. Before, he had whined, "Awww mom, but I thought every kid who got his tonsils out got ice cream!"_

_"That's just a fictional account sweetie." she had said, "The milk wouldn't be good on your throat."_

_"Awww..." he sighed. Oh well, he kind of liked root beer slurpees over peanut butter ice cream anyway._

_Now, he lay back in the bed, bored as a fourth grader could be. He really wished that he had something else to do, besides sit there. The TV was lame in the hopsital (no cartoons!) and he had already read his comic book that he had brought with him. Legos would be fun, but where would he put them?_

_Alfred promised himself that day, that when he grew up, he'd be president, and decree that all hospital rooms have Nintendo 64s hooked up, or the hospital would get sued for a zillion dollars._

_After a while of silently staring at the ceiling, Alfred heard the door creak open, and a silver haired, violet eyed child poked in, carrying a child size satchel._

_Alfred smiled, and rasped (since his voice wasn't that great then), "Ivan!"_

_Ivan smiled equally as big, "Fredka!" and speedily trotted over to his friend's bedside to give him a great big hug._

_"Aaaack..." wheezed Alfred, who was still a little sore, "Ivan, be careful..."_

_"I won't get sick or anything." reminded the boy, Russian accent still thick, "By the way, how do you feel?"_

_"Okay I guess..." rasped the other, flicking his glasses upright, "I still feel sore...and I can't talk that well..."_

_"Poor Fredka..." answered Ivan, patting Alfred's head. He looked at the jar on the bedside table, "Are those it?"_

_Alfred smiled big, and hoarsely answered, "Yep...it's weird how those little things caused my throat to hurt so bad. The doctor said that they're usually the size of a grape..."_

_"These look more like huge strawberries, da?"_

_Alfred giggled, trying not to laugh too loud and hurt his voice. He then sighed, "I'm just so bored. I've been sitting here all day, nothing to do."_

_Ivan smiled and dug into his satchel, and pulled out a box of crayons and a drawing pad._

_"Want to draw with me?"_

_Alfred frowned a little, "You know I'm not a good drawer."_

_"How about you write a comic book, and I draw it?"_

_Alfred gave a toothy grin, "Okay! I've got some cool ideas anyway!"_

_And so, for the rest of the afternoon, Alfred came up with crazy story ideas, involving robots, superheroes, explosions, and for Ivan's sake, sunflowers. It was definitely not DC comics material, but it was theirs. And written in crayon, was embellished "By Alfred and Ivan". They were gonna be famous and get zillions of dollars if their comics got published._

_By the time they were finished, Ivan's mother had come by to pick him up, and thus Alfred had to say goodbye. Ivan was happy to have made his friend smile, and left perfectly content._

_When Ivan was gone, Alfred looked at the empty box of popsicles on his nightstand. He felt rather guilty that he had eaten them all before hand, not saving any for his friend. Their comic lay on the nightstand, two pages in all, covered from head to toe in scribbled drawings (Ivan wasn't that good an artist either), waiting to be read._

_Alfred read the comic that night before going to bed, and when he returned home the next day, he put the drawing on his fridge, for the world to see. He and Ivan were gonna be the best comic artists in the world._

Alfred could only remember so much as to what had happened that day, since it was so long ago. He was only nine when his tonsils were removed, and he was now twenty-two. Even after finishing college, it was amazing how much he could actually remember, and how definite his memories were.

The sound of the door opening is what snapped Alfred back to his senses, as a brunette doctor with a badge that read 'Dr. Lorinaitis' poked in, and asked Alfred, "Are you here for Ivan Braginski?"

Alfred's spine chilled, and chest suspending, said, "Yeah, I'm his best friend! Is he alright? What's freaking wrong with him?"

"Well, we took a look at his appendix and found it had a benign tumor on it. Benign as in it wasn't cancerous, but it was definitely causing trouble. It was beginning to latch on the outer part of his stomach, and inflame the appendix immensely. So we had his appendix removed very easily, and his stomach was mended in the place where the tumor had stuck on. Had he been brought in later, it would have caused permanent damage to his body, or his appendix might have burst."

Alfred wasn't sure wether to be worried or relieved at the onslaught of information, and asked, shaking a little, "W-well, is he okay?"

The doctor smiled at him and said, "You don't need to be so worried right now. He'll be just fine after a little rest. You can go see him now if you'd like."

"Really?" asked Alfred, who was aware of the hospital's visiting hours.

"Sure. You've been patient enough to stay here for seven hours, scared out of your wits. You can see him for a little while, as long as you don't disturb him if he's sleeping. He needs rest, and some medical attention, so he'll be here for a few days." smiled the green eyed man.

Alfred had a huge smile as Dr. Lorinaitis led him down the hall, and to a door.

"This is it, as you know, no disturbing other patients, and no touching hospital equipment. A night nurse will be down later to see you off."

"'kay, cool." thanked Alfred tiredly, as he entered the room, shutting the door.

Ivan was delicately snoring in one of the beds. The other patient was behind a hospital curtain, where neither person could see him or her.

The lights were off, minus a night light on the wall, glowing like a giant firefly. On the nightstand was a jar, with something that looked like a bloody wax stringbean suspended in water. Alfred quietly shuffled over, and pulled up a chair, sitting by Ivan's bedside watching him sleep. He looked so weird laying in a hospital bed, with a gown on. Something like a putrid green hospital gown did not suit Ivan very well.

And at that moment, Alfred realized that this was _Ivan_. Freaking _Ivan_ in the hospital. This was the guy he was waiting seven hours to see, the guy he was worried sick over for the whole night. And Ivan was just sleeping there? No way.

Alfred then smiled and whispered loud enough to wake the Russian, "Ivan!"

Ivan jerked up with a surprised cry, purple eyes wide, and whirled his head around fearfully, unaware of his surroundings for a split moment. He had almost forgotten that he had woken up from his operation earlier, before falling asleep in here. He caught his breath a moment, clutching his scarf, and whispered breathlessly, "D-don't scare me like that Fredka!"

"Don't scare you?" asked Alfred in absolute disbelief, "I spent the last seven hours sweating my face off in fear that you were dead or something, and I scared _you_? Whatta bunch of baloney!"

Ivan's eyes peered up, "You were worried about me?"

"No duh!" responded Alfred, rolling his eyes, "You'd be scared too if your best friend was on the ground in pain, and in the hospital for seven hours!"

"Da...I guess I would." started Ivan, tiredly, "I'm sorry to have worried you..."

Alfred pouted, face red with partial relief, and the fact he upset himself, and hugged Ivan tightly, "Just don't do it again, 'kay? I'm not gonna lose anybody from some stupid lazy-butt appendix."

"Speaking of which, is right there." informed Ivan, pointing to the jar on the nightstand, "I wanted to keep it, da? To use for next halloween maybe."

"Would it even keep that long?"

"I'll keep it in my freezer."

"Next to the perfectly good ice cream? IVAN THAT'S SO GROSS!" shrieked the American a little too loudly, which caused the curtain to swing open, revealing a shriveled old woman in a hospital bed, eyes bugging out from the shock Alfred's scream gave her. Ivan blushed red, while a doubly red Alfred murmured, "Sorry ma'm!"

The old woman shakily closed the hospital curtain in a huff, leaving both Alfred and Ivan alone again.

Alfred then asked, "So...how are you feeling now?"

Ivan sighed, "Better. But my stomach still hurts."

"How much."

"Nowhere near as much as it did earlier. The nurses said it will get better after a few days, and some medicine."

"So how long do you have to stay in this place?"

"Two to three days. Three if I feel pain still. But in any case, I'll be fit to go home soon enough, da?"

"Yeah, but two days? Dude, you're gonna be so bored in here!"

"I'll manage, Fredka. Didn't you stay in the hospital for almost four days?"

"Yeah, but we were in fourth grade! There was more stuff to entertain us then. Remember when we made that comic book?"

"Da, that was fun...Do you have any crayons with you?"

"Nope, not a good medium to use now for artwork."

"I figured. I do miss those days though."

"You and me both, Ivan." chuckled Alfred fiddling with his glasses. He then looked at a bowl on the floor, splattered food seeping under it.

"What's the goop on the floor?"

Ivan then clicked his tongue in disgust, "They tried to feed me jello earlier."

"Why'd you toss it on the floor? I thought you liked jello."

"It was the gross kind, some sort of lime flavor. It made me feel sick. So I tried to put the bowl on the floor, and it slipped from my hands."

"Are you sure you just didn't smack it to the floor in a Russian rage?"

"Da, I'm sure. If I was in a rage, it would have been struck through a wall."

Alfred chuckled a little, and stretched a bit, yawning. Ivan perked his head up from his pillow, "Are you tired?"

Alfred yawned again, "A little, but I'll be alright."

Ivan scooted over on his bed a little, "You can lie down with me if you want."

Alfred shook his head, "I shouldn't. I've gotta go home soon."

Ivan shook his head, "It's better if you stayed here. You're tired, and your house is too far, da?"

Alfred sighed. Ivan wasn't going to give up without an argument. And Alfred _was_ tired, so it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes a little. Hesitantly settling down into the bed, Alfred realized how pleasantly warm and toasty it was. It was far too comfortable to leave him feeling awkward about sharing it with Ivan. What was even weirder was the fact he didn't feel awkward about sharing the bed with Ivan at all. Blushing slightly, he shifted under the blankets.

Ivan, cheeks pink, took off Alfred's glasses, leaving the American to give a confused murmur, before he put the glasses on the nightstand.

"Dude, I'm not gonna stay in here all night."

"Of course not." agreed Ivan, patting the other's head, "It's already 4 AM."

Alfred rolled his eyes, and rested on the pillow. It was all quiet for a little, just the sound of their breathing, until Alfred asked curiously, "Do you have a scar on your stomach?"

"Da. A big one."

"Can I see it?"

"Nyet, go to sleep."

Alfred responded with a wicked gleam in his eyes, and putting his hand up the hospital gown quickly, felt around Ivan's stomach, until his fingers ran across the scar, long, jagged, and bumpy, pressing it a little too hard, causing Ivan to hiss loudly, "Ow! Fredka, that hurt!"

"Sorry."

"And I told you nyet!"

"You just said I couldn't _see_ it, nothing about touching it!"

The violet eyed man sighed in defeat, returned to his relaxed smile, and said shyly, before yawning,

"I think I've got the perfect thing to keep me happy here."

"Wha'shat then?" murmured Alfred tiredly.

"You." smiled Ivan, hugging Alfred warmly.

Alfred paused a minute, blushing. He slowly began to smile, a little taken aback, but then surprisingly happy, turned around, and snuggled into Ivan's warmth.

"Let's get some sleep you big softie."

Ivan nodded, and watched the other fall asleep, eyes heavy, and breathing rhythmic and soothing. Snuggling deeper into the blanket, Ivan wrapped his arms around the smaller man, and murmured, "Я тебя люблю Альфред.", before falling into nightmare free sleep, warm and peaceful.

Dr. Lorinaitis frowned at the fact that the night nurse had left early, not excusing the one man off. He went to Braginski's room, and opening it, found the patient and his guest sound asleep, at peace, snuggled warmly in the hospital bed together. They were squished, but looked absolutely happy to be so. The doctor now had no heart to wake the man up and ask him to leave.

The old woman from behind the curtain peeked out, and said doozily, "They look so cute together!"

Dr. Lorinaitis smiled a little, thinking to himself, _They're definitely more than best friends._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Please Review!...um if you wanna, that is...(Fluttershy impression)<strong>

**Я тебя люблю Альфред- I love you Alfred**


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